Buffy and the Goa'ulden Spaceship
by Lancer47
Summary: Buffy expands her horizons. Crossover with Stargate SG1
1. Chapter 1

BtVS Crossover with Stargate SG-1

**Buffy and the Goa'ulden Spaceship**

_Summary: Buffy's horizons are expanded._

_Disclaimer: I'm trespassing on Buffy and Stargate, but not cashing in, so it's fair use._

_Spoilers: All of Buffy and Stargate at least to Season 8._

_Rating: T ( R ), mostly for language. ._

_Author's Notes:_

_My Navy-speak is probably not completely correct, but it should be close enough for government work. And rather than pepper my dialog with footnotes, I put a glossary at the end for the convenience of the reader. _

_The Navy says publicly that ships such as I describe here can go faster than thirty knots, but they don't say how much faster. Forty knots seems reasonable to me, but it's just a wild guess._

_I should apologize for starting yet another story when I have several incomplete ones. But that's how the muse struck me. I intend to complete all of the previous stories, sooner or later._

_License:_

_This is distributed under the Creative Commons license, others may play here as long as correct attribution is maintained. No commercial application is allowed or even possible. _

**Prologue**

_The Setup_

Daniel Jackson lounged in his laid-back chair and sighed. He was bored out of his mind, but General Hammond had threatened to court-martial him if he didn't take the weekend off. When Daniel reminded the General that he couldn't court-martial civilians, Hammond just glared at him. "What am I supposed to do?" he had whined. The General replied, "Relax, refresh, read a novel, clean your apartment, go to the movies, do what millions of people do on the weekend."

So, what to do? Well, he started to alphabetize one of his bookcases, but that got old in a hurry. Then he washed the dishes, but he had only three dirty dishes so besides being boring it didn't take long. He glanced at the TV schedule: situation normal, nothing remotely interesting. He decided to check the mail: a couple of bills, boring, a quarter pound of advertisements, really boring, a letter for his neighbor that ended up in his box—crap this was dull—only one more, this one with foreign stamps, hmm, it was from England, from a Dr. Giles. Wait, could that be Rupert Giles? The Curator of Myths and Antiquities at the British Museum? It was, and Daniel ripped open the envelope with his first glimmer of excitement for the weekend. He read:

_My dear Daniel,_

_I hope you won't think me presumptuous for asking for your help on a matter when we haven't spoken for many years (I quite enjoyed your lecture on a possible extra-terrestrial origin of Egyptian myths, even though there is no doubt that I'm in a minority) but I find myself needing your particular expertise on an archaeological linguistic puzzle. _

_First, since I didn't have your address I goggled, or perhaps googeled, for it; I trust you have no objections to my tracking you down. (Actually, I had one of my able assistants mine the infernal machine, as I still harbor a distrust of electrons) and I find you are living the good life in Colorado Springs; a beautiful town I understand._

_Second, I am no longer with the British Museum, haven't been since shortly after the last time we spoke. I have been involved with a private firm called Council Antiquities, Ltd., and in fact I am now the CEO; mostly due to the fact that the majority of our members were victims of a terrorist attack in London a few years ago, perhaps you heard of it? _

_Before I took over as head of Council Antiquities, the policy here was to acquire as much as possible without regard as to whether or not anyone was available to study and classify the objects. One of my first orders of business has been to inventory our vaults and warehouses and at least catalog all of our acquisitions. One such object appears to be an Egyptian Burial Urn, nicely preserved and sealed, packed along with a box of mysterious objects. It was inscribed with a few Sumerian and Akkadian phrases, but the majority of the inscription is in a language unknown to me or anyone else here at the Council. _

_Enclosed you will find photographs of the objects, including translations that fell within our expertise, as well as the writing that mystified us. It would give me great pleasure if you could identify and decipher any of these phrases. You may consider this an offer of consultation and present us with an invoice upon satisfactory completion._

_Yours truly,_

_Rupert Giles_

Daniel reflected on the letter with some foreboding and shook pictures out of the envelope. When he looked at them, he shot up out of his chair as if electrified.

**Chapter 1**

_At Sea_

At oh five hundred I climbed up to the bridge. I always enjoyed watching the sun rise over the ocean, even though I also enjoyed being grumpy along with my first cup of coffee.

"Captains on the bridge!" the quartermaster sounded off.

"Good morning Captain," said Lt. Franklin brightly and far too perkily for that hour, " we are steady on zero niner zero at twelve knots on charlie bravo eighteen."

I grunted at her as I took a sip from my coffee cup and grabbed the latest dispatches from DesRon 9, then wandered out onto the port bridge wing, idly reading the usual dull communications.

Time passed the way it usually does at sea: deliberately, without hurry. As the sky slowly brightened, I watched some seagulls fly around looking for handouts. One landed on a lifeline behind the signalman's deckhouse for a few minutes, then flapped lazily away when a couple of sailors plodded out and prepared to swab the deck. I could hear the sound of the waves slapping against the hull of my ship and the soft whine of the gas turbines driving the twin screws. I could smell the tantalizing aromas of breakfast floating out from the messdecks as well as hear sailors all over the ship prepare for another day at sea. We were lazing along, looking for something. I could hear Lt. Franklin ordering the course change for the next leg of our search pattern as I took in the early morning sun. I didn't know what we were looking for, I only knew we had a couple of civilians on board and I had orders to search an area of ocean off the California coast. The admiral told me I would know what it was when I found it, and if I didn't find it, it would be better if I didn't know what it was. Seemed like twisted logic to me, but what do I know?

Suddenly, I heard one of the watchstanders say, "CIC reports Bogey Foxtrot at one eight six, altitude ten thousand, speed seven...say again Jonesy? What! You're sure?"

I leaned into the open door of the bridge and interrupted this conversation, "Just repeat what he said sailor, now!"

"Sir, CIC reports Bogey Foxtrot at zero eight six true, niner zero miles, eighteen thousand feet, at seventeen thousand knots!"

"Urk?" I said foolishly, then hastily added, "Captain has the conn!" and stepped into the bridge.

"Aye sir, Captain has the conn!" repeated the OOD. I could see the quartermaster frantically writing in the log out of the corner of my eye.

"CIC reports Bogey Foxtrot is at constant bearing decreasing range!"

"CIC recommends course zero eight zero at flank speed!"

"Quartermaster recommends course two seven zero at flank speed!"

I ordered, "HELM, left rudder to one eight zero, LEE HELM, revolutions for thirty five knots. Quartermaster of the watch, sound General Quarters!"

"Coming to one eight zero, aye!"

"Thirty five knots, aye!"

I went back out on the bridge wing and stared at the horizon where this unknown flying object was probably flaming out—I was assuming it wasn't a missile aimed down my throat. I figured that this must be what was what I was looking for, I hoped it wouldn't hit us. I listened to the ship while I watched though my binoculars, I could hear the the 1MC echoing throughout as the quartermaster shouted, "GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS, THIS IS NOT A DRILL, THIS IS NOT A DRILL, ALL HANDS TO GENERAL QUARTERS!"

I could feel the deck vibrate from the thundering feet of the crew as they rushed to their duty stations, grumbling about their breakfasts getting interrupted.

The watchstander reported, a little breathlessly, "Sir, Combat reports Foxtrot is down to twelve thousand knots, fourteen thousand feet, six five miles at one eight five, still constant bearing, decreasing range! No IFF detected! CPA is one minute!"

I started calculating in my head, it wouldn't be long before—ah there it was, a bright golden speck in the sky, well above the horizon, coming out of a cloud bank. It didn't seem like it was moving that fast since it was head on, but I checked it's shadow on the sea and suddenly didn't like my position anymore.

"HELM!" I shouted through the water-tight door from the bridge wing, "LEFT RUDDER. COME TO TWO FIVE ZERO! LEE HELM FLANK SPEED!"

"Coming left to two five zero, aye!"

"Flank speed, aye!"

The ship leaned alarmingly to the right as the gas turbines wound further up. I could see that the newer members of the bridge crew wondered if we were going to continue the roll right down to the water, but the ship righted herself and we barreled away at right angles to the incoming bogey.

I heard voices coming from the fo'csle, I looked down and saw the civilians gazing at the horizon from just abaft the anchor windlass. I shouted down at them, "Clear the weather decks you fools!" As the ship accelerated and turned she rocked and pitched wildly over the ocean and I watched in horror as a wave came over the bow and washed clean over them. Incredibly, the younger woman had managed to hold on to a firmly welded stanchion, and even more amazingly she'd held on to her companion. _Worthless landlubbers!_ I thought angrily, if they'd gotten washed overboard my career would've crashed, but at least the they'd have been dead!

"Chief," I said to the Chief Quartermaster who had just made it to the bridge, pass the word to have those idiots on the fo'csle brought to the bridge!"

"Aye aye cap'n," he answered, completely unsurprised by the unpredictable behavior of civilians.

"Combat reports Foxtrot at one thousand feet altitude, speed nine hundred knots, still at constant bearing decreasing range!"

A different watchstander reported, a little breathlessly, "EW reports that there are no detectable electronic emissions from Foxtrot!"

"Fire Control reports weapons ready!"

I stared though my binoculars for a moment then ordered, "ALL STOP, RUDDER AMIDSHIPS!"

My orders were repeated back to me as we slid through the water in near silence. From more than thirty knots it would take quite awhile before we actually came to a stop, the thin profile of my frigate provided the ability to easily cut through the waves. I could see more of this thing coming at us now. It was a weird shape, triangular mostly, like a flying pyramid. I had a hard time imagining that it could fly at all, much less fly at astonishing speed. It looked like it should have all the aerodynamic qualities of a stack of bricks.

I shouted into the bridge, "HELM, RIGHT RUDDER TO ONE NINER ZERO! LEE HELM, REVOLUTIONS FOR TWENTY KNOTS!"

II timed my order just right and finally shouted, "ALL STOP, RUDDER AMIDSHIPS!' And I watched in utter amazement as a golden pyramidal spaceship landed gently in the water beside my ship.

At that moment, the two civilians were escorted onto the bridge by the Chief Bo'sun. Their shoes squished as they walked and they dripped saltwater all over the deck, much to the quartermaster's irritation. They looked like drowned rats with their hair plastered to their skulls. I really didn't have time for them, but I guessed it was their business floating next to us. "Ms. Kennedy and Ms. Rosenberg! Didn't you know where your General Quarters duty station was located?"

The younger one, looking quite charming in her wet shirt, still coughing up salt water, replied, "Um, (cough, hack) no actually."

"Not so much, but I probably couldn't have found it anyway, even I knew," said the other, delightfully redheaded one.

"Oh," I said, "well, that was my responsibility to make certain you knew the rules. For future reference, this is your GQ station. Now, what the hell do you know about that thing floating off the port bow?" I pointed off to the left and noticed that there were more sailors than usual on deck, most of them also pointing excitedly towards the spaceship.

Willow Rosenberg answered, "It's classified to an astonishing degree, Captain. But I can tell you that it is crewed by United States Air Force officers and civilian consultants. I suggest you put a boat in the water to take them off."

"How many?"

"There should be eight. Plus one on a stretcher. Unless they met with disaster."

"Why the hell did they land out here?"

"Oh, umm, you see, they don't want anyone to see the spaceship. And it turns out that there aren't any satellites overhead right now, right here. They'll sink it after getting off."

"What? Surely they'd want to study it?"

"Well yeah, someone will be by to collect it later on. It won't be damaged by being parked underwater for a short time, or long time either."

"Hmm," I said. Then I turned to the Chief bosun, who was looking about as boggled as I had ever seen a Chief Boatswain's Mate. "Chief, launch the workboat. And get those lollygagging sailors on deck back to work, this is not a Carnival cruise!"

**Chapter II**

_Snafu!_

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Daniel as he looked at the photographs from Giles. He picked up the phone and hit the speed dial for General Hammond.

"General Hammond."

"General, this is Daniel. There might be a Goa'uld loose in England! SG-1 needs to deploy!"

"Dr. Jackson, I thought you were going to take the weekend off," Hammond replied testily.

"Yes sir, and I was and did. But I got a letter from the CEO of Council Antiquities, Ltd. He used to be a curator at the British Museum, and he came across some Egyptian artifacts. He couldn't translate or identity some of the items so he wants to hire me for the job. General, he has a Goa'uld containment device, a stasis urn like the one we found in the Chicago museum. It came with a crate filled with zat guns, hand devices, and a healing device. And some stuff I can't identify. Anyway, Sam needs to look at it. We have to go, right now!"

"All right Dr. Jackson, come on into the mountain and bring the evidence. I'll call the rest of SG-1."

--- ---

"So, who is this Rupert Giles?" asked Colonel O'Neill as SG-1 found their seats around the conference table.

"Dr. Giles is the current head of Council Antiquities, LTD."

"And that is--?" asked Sam.

"Oh, they're a leading firm involved in collecting and authenticating antiques," said Daniel.

"I am glad you cleared that up DanielJackson," said Teal'c, "for we wouldn't have known otherwise."

Daniel spared a glance at Teal'c's stern visage. He suspected the Jaffa was making sport of him, but he was too anxious to go into it further. "They specialize in ancient artifacts as well as anything that has mythological connotations. Here, look at these pictures he sent me."

SG-1 and General Hammond all frowned deeply as they passed around and looked at the photographs of the Stasis Urn.

"Well hell," said O'Neill, "I guess we're off to jolly olde England."

"Yes Colonel," said General Hammond, "unfortunately, you'll have to leave your weapons behind. Our British cousins don't look kindly on armed Americans traipsing about their countryside – I can't imagine why not. And you'll go in civilian clothes. Plan your approach carefully, perhaps the easiest thing to do would be to simply buy the objects outright. These people appear to be antique dealers so that shouldn't present too much of a problem. I'll try to get you some native backup, but it may take some time to find the right department in Her Majesty's Government. I used to have a phone number, but they had some kind of reorganization recently."

--- ---

"Hey Gilesey wilesey, what's cookin'?"

Giles looked up from his desk and said, "Dawn, must you butcher my name in such a cavalier fashion?"

"So I should butcher your name in some non-cavalier fashion? Like: IlesGa, or Monsieur Ghilees, or Ruperto, howzabout Gee-Man...?"

"Dr. Summers," Giles interrupted stiffly, "your further examples are not in the least humble or in any other way non-cavalier! Now, if you please, what do you need that warrants disturbing my morning tea?"

"Spoilsport. Got an email for you. I printed it out and everything, and I didn't use color this time since you made all those pithy comments about my color sense last week. I really hate wasting the paper though, I wish you'd learn to read your computer screen."

"Dawn, the tactile sensation of an important message printed carefully on fine paper is to be treasured, not scorned."

"You know, that's just what they said about cuneiform inscribed in clay, which I'm sure would work fine for all _your_ text-messaging needs. And hey, you wouldn't have to worry about viruses any more!"

"Dawn, the message please."

"This message came in through the Council Antiquities server, but it's addressed to Dr. Rupert Giles, CEO. What's wrong with lavender text, anyway? Here." She plopped a single page down in front of Giles.

"Oh," said Giles, "it's from Daniel Jackson. Hmmm, he's coming here, with some associates, to look at our Egyptian artifacts."

"Is he nearby or something?"

"No, he's flying over from Colorado Springs."

"Colorado?"

"Yes. He'll be here this evening. I wonder what could be so urgent about thousand year old museum grade collectibles?" mused Giles.

"Maybe we'd better look at that thing again before the Air Force confiscates it or something."

"HA! You did read it! After you assured me you'd be able to handle my correspondence without invading my privacy."

"Giles! I can't print out your emails without reading them first! If I didn't check them out you'd get huge piles of advertisements for penis enlargement pills! And breast enlargement cream! And colorful condoms ribbed in new and unusual patterns guaranteed to rub your girlfriend the _right_ way! And Viagra! Lots and lots of Viagra! And all of Viagras competitors! God, you'd think there was a worldwide epidemic of morbid flaccidity! Of course _I_ wouldn't know if you need or want any of this stuff, but I assume you'd rather I didn't hand you advertising like that because I know how this subject embarrasses you so!"

"Ah, I see," he replied while polishing his glasses. "It doesn't embarrass me Dawn, it's just an inappropriate topic for, uh, the office. But I appreciate your able winnowing of the chaff, I shan't complain again."

"Why thank you ever so much, Giles," said Dawn with an affected and very faux English accent. This amused Giles no end because Dawn was capable of perfectly mimicking any accent she'd ever heard.

"However, you do have a point about the artifacts. Is Willow around? Perhaps we should inspect them with some serious magical talent on hand."

"Yeah, she's in the library with Buffy."

"Buffy is in the Watcher's Library? What on earth for?"

"Don't know. She and Willow were thick as thieves this AM."

"I feel an urgent need to visit the library, care to join me?"

"Oh you know me, I'm always ready for some down and dirty studying."

They went down one floor to the large and airy New Watcher's Library and found Buffy and Willow, researching. Giles raised his eyebrows and said, "Good lord Buffy, did I miss an impending apocalypse? Did the Earth move? Was there a memo?"

"Ha ha, Giles," said Buffy, "very funny, I'm sure. You've seen me help with the researchy stuff before."

"Yes, but only under the most dire and extreme circumstances. Hence my worry."

Willow looked up and said, "I asked for her help. I was reading the Dawnster's Egyptian translations and there are references to all sorts of strange weapons that I didn't even know what they were in English much less Sumerian and I wasn't getting anywhere figuring out the which from the what so I enlisted our weapons expert."

"Ah, very good. Actually, we're here on the same subject. It seems my request for translation services from an expert in the field has struck a nerve, as it were. Dr. Jackson will be here this evening, along with a team from the U. S. Air Force, to examine our find."

"Huh? What's the Air Force want with Egyptian artifacts?" asked Willow.

"Yeah," said Buffy, "what could possibly interest the military? I guess it's lucky they aren't Army, at least, but still, I feel a wiggins comin' on."

"Willow, have you actually inspected the items for any magical residue?" asked Dawn.

"No, it hadn't occurred to me. I suppose we better go right now, huh?"

"Yes."

--- ---

Glossary:

(1) CIC: Combat Information Center. Staffed by Operations Specialists who spend a lot of time looking at radar screens and plots. They also have a lot of computers these days. They used to be called Radarmen, informally known as scope dopes.

(2) Constant Bearing Decreasing Range: Collision course. But it depends on how long to the CPA . Two ships traveling not quite parallel to each other can can have a Constant Bearing Decreasing Range, but if the time to CPA is measured in days, it doesn't really matter, because someone will steer away long before they get too close. But if the CPA is a few minutes, (or worse, seconds!), especially if the velocity is high, you could have a critical problem.

(3) CPA: Closest Point of Approach.

(4) Bogey: Navy jargon for unidentified flying contact.

(5) Skunk: (or SCUNK) Navy jargon for unidentified surface contact.

(6) IFF: Identification Friend or Foe, an electronic device.

(7) The ship in this story is very similar to the USS Ingraham, FFG 72. The modern Frigate class is similar to what used to be called Destroyer Escorts, but are far more capable.

(8) "Another Fine Navy Day!" Usually said sarcastically and suggesting a day that's truly FUBAR.

(9) Foxtrot Uniform: The polite phonetic pronunciation of saying "Fuck You"

(10) FUBAR: Fucked Up Beyond All Repair. Used in all services.

(11) OOD: Officer of the Deck (or Day if it's not a ship)

(12) Three-Striper: Refers to the three gold stripes a full Commander wears on his sleeves.


	2. Chapter 2

BtVS Crossover with Stargate SG-1

**Buffy and the Goa'ulden Spaceship**

_A N: Thank you all for the kind reviews. _

_I split the plot into two converging threads and we'll bounce back and forth in time until they merge. This is the kind of thing that becomes clearer when there are more chapters. _

**Chapter Three**

_What? No Aliens?_

I leaned over the bridge wing splash guards and studied the spaceship. I watched as the workboat came around the bow and bounced over the waves. Somehow—I still wasn't clear how—the civilian women had argued their way on board the boat. I wasn't going to permit it, I was firm, I was adamant, I was the Rock of Gibraltar, but Willow's pout sabotaged my best efforts and somehow I found that I had agreed to let her and Kennedy go on the boat.

I watched Kennedy ride the workboat like she born to it. In fact, she hopped up on the gunwale and balanced for a few moments to get a better look at the golden spaceship. Then, much to my relief, she jumped back down. But poor Willow looked decidedly seasick and was holding on grimly.

An opening appeared in the side of the spaceship. A tongue-like dock extended. The first person out, (and boy was I disappointed that it wasn't some weird alien creature,) was a very large man. He looked perfectly human, except for the gold emblem stuck on his forehead. He carried a funny looking staff and looked around alertly. Then two Air Force officers, one a pretty Major and the other a weary gray haired Colonel, both carrying FN P-90s followed, along with another man, also wearing standard camo work uniform, but without insignia.

Then two young women came out, the blond one looked around confidently, the younger one, with dark hair down to her waist, seemed excited, almost bouncy. They were followed by a guy with an eyepatch and another, a little older, wearing tweed.

The girls in the boat waved to the spaceship crew, who waved back. They all seemed happy to see each other. I counted carefully, eight, just as Willow said.

But then another man came out, older than the others and wearing the most outlandish clothes I'd seen on anyone outside of a movie. Hm, that made nine. He and the female Officer leaned against each other in what looked to me like a father/daughter gesture, although I could have been mistaken because of the distance.

As the coxswain backed his boat to a stop next to the landing platform, a sailor jumped the gap with a line and made it fast to a convenient projection. Strangely, the water around the spaceship was quieter and smoother than the rest of the ocean. Almost as if some force were smoothing out the adjacent waves. The large man and the AF Colonel ducked back inside and came out a moment later carrying a stretcher between them. It looked like a kid strapped to the stretcher. He appeared to be arguing vociferously with the others. They all managed to transfer to the boat, then the female officer and the short blond rushed back inside the ship and came out with some strange looking boxes. Then they untied and the coxswain guided his boat smartly back towards the frigate. As the boat turned, the spaceship closed up and slowly, without fuss, descended into the depths. By the time the workboat tied up to the falls, the spaceship was entirely gone. I blinked, and immediately started to wonder if I had imagined the whole thing.

**Chapter Four**

_Uh oh!_

The four had driven to a warehouse on the outskirts of London and were gathered around the artifacts. Willow had put herself into a semi-trance and the others watched her. After a minute or so she came out of it and said, "I don't think there's any magic involved here, but that urn has life inside it. Unfortunately, its aura is intensely dark, so whatever is in there should definitely stay there. As far as these other things go, it's just technology. Of course, ancient Egyptian artifacts aren't generally known for advanced technology, so that is probably why the Air Force is on the way."

Giles glared as if he found the objects offensive. "I suppose we should involve British authorities too. I have a feeling that both governments will end up angry with us."

"Why?" asked Dawn.

"Because these things have been in our possession for years, and we certainly should have done something about them before now. They're going to be unhappy with each other—since we're in the middle we'll be an easy target for whatever blame might be hovering about."

"All this was collected before your time Giles, your ass is covered," said Buffy.

"Yes, thank you for that colorful image, Buffy. I should have involved the British government before the Americans, but I didn't anticipate the US Air Force when I sent that letter to Daniel Jackson. For now, we had best get all this transferred to our secure vault in the London House; it will be more convenient there as I am certain we will have a plethora of government busybodies trooping through on inspection tours."

Dawn added, "Plus there are other things in this warehouse we don't want to have to explain to anyone with sharp eyes."

Giles spoke to the senior Watcher in charge of cataloging this warehouse and made arrangements to get the objects under discussion moved along with the necessary security.

--- ---

Back at the basement of the New Council's London House, after Buffy and Giles made sure the material was securely locked in an otherwise empty vault, Giles made a call to an obscure government official. As he had predicted, the MI-5 Officer tasked with liaison between the Watcher's Council and Her Majesty's Government was miffed that he hadn't been called earlier and was more than a little irritated when he discovered that American Air Force Officers were already on the way. But when Giles gave him the list of names of the team coming over, he fell silent. Finally, he said, "Dr. Giles, there is a possibility that this lies well outside of your field of expertise. I'm coming by this afternoon, after I make some calls."

As it happened the Air Force contingent and the man from MI-5 arrived at the same time, several hours after the evening meal. As everyone was crowding into the foyer of the Council's London headquarters; there was much confusion. It all got sorted out and introductions were in order. Giles said, "Good evening Lord Wynston, I trust your afternoon went well. This is Dr. Daniel Jackson, a noted archaeologist specializing in Egypt. Dr. Jackson, this is Lord Jeremy Wynston of the Home Office, or somewhere thereabouts. Dr. Jackson, you will have to introduce your friends."

"Thanks Dr. Giles. This is Colonel Jack O'Neill, Doctor and Major Samantha Carter, and Murray."

Everyone shook hands. Lord Wynston caught Gile's eye and said, "I need a moment of your time, Dr. Giles, before we continue with our, er, business."

With a apology to his guests, who he left to Andrew Wells, Giles and Wynston disappeared into a small sitting room.

"Well Dr. Giles, you've created a spot of bother, haven't you?"

"It wasn't intentional, I assure you Lord Wynston. I simply asked for Dr. Jackson's expertise in ancient languages to help us translate the inscriptions on an ancient Egyptian artifact. The United States Air Force showing up at my doorstep is a huge surprise—I can't even imagine what their interest could be."

"Call me Jeremy, no need to stand on formality Rupert. Yes, I do understand. It is all too easy to unwittingly step knee deep in shit these days. I spent the entire afternoon trying to track down the department tasked with keeping track of these Air Force people; apparently they are all on holiday, all at once."

"That sounds a little odd, don't you think?"

"Indeed I do, Rupert, indeed I do. What's worse, I haven't been able to get hold of anyone at a high enough level on such short notice to allow me to bring you into our confidence on this matter. So perhaps we can push the Americans into spilling the beans."

"How?"

"When the time is ripe, follow my lead. For now, let's go inspect the goods."

They went back out to the hall and found it deserted. Following a hunch, Giles went to the formal sitting room and found his guests. Daniel Jackson smiled but the rest of his team were either neutral or glowering.

"Here you are," said Giles, "where's Andrew?"

"He went to get some coffee and tea," said Colonel O'Neill. "I wonder if we can get this show on the road, I'd like to take a look at your burial urn, buy it, and get gone."

"Buy it? But Colonel O'Neill, it isn't for sale."

O'Neill smiled at Giles. "Oh, I think we can make an offer you can't refuse."

"I wouldn't count on that, Colonel."

Buffy wandered in and said hello. Giles introduced her. Buffy took a second look at 'Murray' and whispered to Giles, "There's something funny about that guy."

Giles said, "Well, since Andrew seems to have gotten lost on the way to the butler's pantry, shall we proceed?"

They all followed Giles down to the basement where a large closet had been reinforced with welded steel panels and a large metal door with a combination lock to form a vault.

"I could have sworn we left that door closed and locked," said Giles.

"We did," Buffy agreed as she stalked over and looked inside. "Oh crud."

Sam Carter looked over Buffy's shoulder and saw the burial urn with the top removed. She looked back and said, "Colonel, we have a _foothold_ situation."

"All right," exclaimed Buffy, "what is a _foothold_ situation? Do I have to worry about it?"

"You needn't bother with it Ms. Summers," said O'Neill in his most condescending tone of voice, "we'll take care of it."

"Yeah? Like you took care of Sunnydale?" Carter and O'Neill glanced at each other with baffled expressions.

Andrew came down the hall from the other side of the vault. He said brightly, "This is so cool!" Then his eyes flashed yellow.

"Oh hell!" said O'Neill as he frantically grabbed for his non-existent sidearm.

Andrew continued, now in a deep echoing voice, "BOW DOWN BEFORE YOUR GOD PTAH! AND BRING ME THE SLAYERS, THEY WILL BE MY HAREM! AND DON'T FORGET THE MAJOR BLOND!"

"Andrew, what the hell have you been smoking?" inquired Buffy with a dangerous look.

Carter dived into the vault and emerged with a zat gun. Andrew/Ptah saw her before she could shoot and aimed his palm device at her. She flew backwards into Giles, both of them tumbling to the wall behind them, taking Daniel Jackson with them as they fell.

"Andrew, you are so dead!" said Buffy as she attacked. They started fighting, rolling around on the floor like a pair of angry cats. But Andrew got his palm device aimed at Buffy and she flew back into Teal'c with enough force to push both of them onto the growing pile of groggy people. By the time she sorted herself out, Andrew had disappeared.

"All right, I want some explanations, what the hell got into Andrew?" asked Buffy, aiming her glare towards the Air Force officers.

"It's classified." sighed O'Neill.

Buffy shoved the Colonel up against the wall and hissed, "Unclassify it! Tell us what's going on or this gentleman from MI-5 will have you arrested!" She shot a glance towards Lord Wynstone, who nodded in agreement.

Major Carter was amused by the sight of O'Neill allowing himself to be held captive by a girl a foot shorter than him, apparently by pure muscle power. But Teal'c wasn't deceived by outward appearances. He said, "BuffySummers, you will release Colonel O'Neill immediately!"

Buffy looked over at Teal'c and said, "And while we're on the subject, what are you? You aren't completely human." All without letting go of O'Neill, who was starting to gasp for air.

"I am Jaffa!" said Teal'c proudly, standing tall.

"And I'm Buffy, nice to meet you Jaffa, but that doesn't explain what you are or why you set off my spidey sense."

"No, BuffySummers, Jaffa is what I am, my name is Teal'c."

"Wow, that must be so embarrassing – Jaffa sounds like some kind of new Starbucks concoction and your name sounds like a ducky color. But where are you from?"

Teal'c managed to frown a little deeper than usual as he answered, "Chulak."

"Well that clears it right up. Where would I find Chulak?"

Carter, sensing belatedly that O'Neill really wasn't able to defend himself against this cheerleader for some reason, said, "Ahh, Ms. Summers, would you release Colonel O'Neill please?" And she recovered her zat gun and started to ease it towards Buffy.

Lord Wynstone said, "Major Carter, I will take it amiss if you don't put that Zat'nik'tel down. And please remember that you are on British soil."

"But, but, she's an American too!"

"Which is not relevant, Major Carter."

Daniel, still a little knocked around, sat up and asked, "How did you know the proper name of that gun?"

Giles and his Slayer were merely puzzled. Buffy exclaimed, "So that's a Zat'nik'tel." But neither knew the capabilities of what they thought was an ancient artifact.

Buffy put the Colonel down and said, "Let's go upstairs. We'll get a search for Andrew organized while you folks explain it all."

"Ah, (cough, hack) no," said O'Neill, "we'll do the tracking, you get back to class, or whatever it is you do."

Buffy grabbed his arm, adroitly twisted him around and marched him upstairs holding his arm painfully behind his back. The rest followed.

**Chapter Five**

_Interlude_

"Lieutenant, you have the Conn," I ordered as I grabbed a docking radio and rushed towards the bridge-wing ladder. I stepped down and shouted over my shoulder, "set a course for Bremerton at standard cruise!" And damned near tripped down the ladder. I just barely caught the handrails before tumbling to the deck below. It would have been the first time in years, clearly my state of mind was weirded out by the morning's events. Not really surprising, but I reminded myself to at least watch my step before breaking something important.

I got to the main deck just as my new passengers came over the side from the boat. I reminded myself not to grin stupidly at them and quite consciously adopted my 'Captain's Look', just like I used to practice (in private) back when I was in NROTC. I briefly wondered if I should welcome them to Planet Earth or something equally foolish, but reflected that they were, after all, United States Air Force. I also thought about all the Air Force jokes I'd heard over the years, somehow they weren't quite as funny now.

The Colonel saluted the flag and me and asked, "Permission to come aboard Captain?"

_Holy hell_, I thought, _I forgot to have him piped aboard! He's Air Force, maybe he won't realize he's been insulted._ Just then Chief Bosun started warbling on his Bo'sun's pipe from just behind my shoulder. Phew, trust the Chief to remember the niceties.

"Welcome aboard, Colonel," I said, and returned his salute. Then I added inanely, "Did you have a good trip?"

The Colonel gave me a crooked grin and said, "Yeah, you could say that."

The pretty blond major smiled and added, "In the same vein as '_any landing you can walk away from is successful_'."

"Oh, allow me to introduce myself, I'm Commander McConnel, the Captain of this vessel."

"Buffy Summers," said the short blond girl.

"Dawn Summers."

"Major Samantha Carter."

"General Carter, Retired."

"Murray."

"Xander."

"I AM PTAH! BOW TO YOUR GOD!" said the guy tied to the stretcher with what I noticed were extremely heavy bonds. His voice echoed oddly.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill."

"Daniel Jackson."

"And I'm Rupert Giles. Perhaps we could trouble you for a ride to the nearest land? If it's not out of your way."

The youngest of them, Dawn, said somewhat testily to the stretcher bound boy, "Andrew! Come out of there! Stop that! I know you can control it, don't try to bullshit us this time!"

"Woah," he said, "this is just sooo cool! After everything else that's happened now we're guests of the Navy! I've traveled to outer space! My life is complete! I can die happy! QUIET! YOU CANNOT INTERRUPT ME! I AM IN CONTROL! Nuh-uh snakey guy. You missed a spot!"

"Andrew!" said Dawn, "if you say '_it's so cool_' one more time, I'm gonna drown you! And would you please shut Ptui up?"

Colonel O'Neill, noticing the crowd of sailors around us, said, "Let's go inside, someplace a little more private."

I turned and glared at the impromptu audience of curious sailors, "What is this? Don't any of you have anything better to do? If not, I'm sure Chief Hanson can find something, can't you Chief? I just know there's some rust that needs to be scraped and repainted somewhere!" They suddenly remembered important work elsewhere and rushed off. "Lieutenant, show our guests to the wardroom."

**Chapter Six**

_What? What?_

At the top of the stairs from the basement Buffy started shouting orders: "Slayers! Front and center!" The non-slayers all winced at her volume. A dozen young women thundered down the stairs and out from the kitchen and a couple from the backyard, ready to rock-n-roll. But, to SG-1, it looked like a group of high-school girls. They were baffled. Buffy continued, "Something has possessed Andrew, something ancient and evil I'm thinkin', and he grabbed some weapons out of fantasyland. Search the house and the grounds, be careful of the funky shiny thing in his right hand. When you find him, call for backup before you try to capture him."

Several of the girls laughed, "Backup for _Andrew_?" said Kennedy, "you're bullshitting us, right?"

"_I_ wasn't able to subdue him," Buffy said, "at least not without killing him and I'd rather keep him alive if at all possible." The other girls fell silent, Kennedy looked disbelieving. Buffy added, "Go! Go! Get him!" They all rushed off.

O'Neill asked, "What the hell is going on around here? Why are you sending teenage girls to capture a dangerous, uh, ..."

"Dangerous _what_, oh wise one from the west?" asked Buffy sarcastically, "prey tell, let us in on your secrets."

O'Neill, Carter, and Jackson all exchanged looks. O'Neill sighed heavily and said, "You'll have to sign non-disclosure agreements."

"We don't have time for that crap right now," exclaimed Buffy.

"Without that, we can say nothing."

Giles said, "Buffy, we can sign the forms, after all, we're not going to publicize anything anyway. But Colonel, if there is anything we need to know this instant, tell us – we'll sign your papers later for further detail."

O'Neill looked like he was sucking on a particularly tart lemon. "OK, Andrew Wells was taken over by a Goa'uld. Goa'ulds are extraterrestrial creatures, somewhat snakelike, that invade through mouth or straight through the skin and clamp down on the spine around the neck. They take over all the higher functions. For all practical purposes, the host becomes the Goa'uld. Goa'ulds are essentially reptilian in nature; they try to pass themselves off as gods. Especially to primitive societies."

Giles interrupted, "Like ancient Egypt?"

"Precisely," said Daniel Jackson, "many of the ancient Egyptian God-Kings and Queens were Goa'uld. They were chased off-planet five thousand years ago, but not before they enslaved many thousands of humans and transported whole populations to other planets."

Sam Carter took over, "That 'burial urn' of yours was actually a stasis containment device. The Goa'uld within has been preserved for five thousand years, or more."

"That was a heckuva good artifact," said Willow, who had joined them, "I mean, five thousand years, that's a long time for transistors to keep on ticking."

"Not transistors," said Sam, "nano-circuitry embedded in crystals. Very advanced technology. We're just starting to understand how..."

"Carter!" Colonel O'Neill interrupted, "zip it!"

"Sorry sir!"

Giles said, "So Andrew was invaded by a creature who claims to be _Ptah_, the Egyptian God of Craftsmen."

"God of Craftsmen? Prosaic much?" commented Buffy.

"I guess we're lucky it wasn't Xander," said Willow.

"Well," said Daniel, "Ptah was also considered to have created the whole pantheon of Gods, Queens, and Kings, the creator of all, you might say. Typical claims of Goa'ulds, really."

Giles, musing, suddenly said, "Ah ha! You must have recovered the Chappa-ai!"

SG-1 looked utterly dumbfounded. "How the hell did you know that?" asked Colonel O'Neill, with dangerous undertones in his voice.

"I merely put two and two together. The legends of ancient Egypt tell us..."

"We so don't have time Giles," interrupted Buffy, "Major Carter, how do we get that elliot gould thingy out of Andrew, once we catch him?"

"We're unable to remove it without killing the host, but one of our allies can. But capturing Ptah won't be easy. Goa'ulds are astonishingly adaptive and very difficult to overcome. The Zat gun usually works well. One shot stuns, two shots kill, three shots disintegrate."

"Wow," said Buffy, that sounds useful!"

"We're taking them all," said O'Neill gruffly.

"No, you're not. This is British soil, you have no authority here," said Lord Wynstone, "whatever we allow you to have will be the result of negotiation between our respective superiors. In the meantime, I do require your expertise to help subdue young Andrew Wells. I don't suppose this is your fault, but if you don't cooperate with the Watcher's Council in this endeavor, I will find a way to blame you."

"Sure, we'll cooperate. But what the hell is the Watcher's Council? What do they watch?"

"Oh dear, I thought you knew."

--- ---

_See Glossary in Chapter One_


	3. Chapter 3

BtVS Crossover with Stargate SG-1

**Buffy and the Goa'ulden Spaceship**

_AN: I haven't been able to write as much as I'd like recently because my clients insist that I actually do the work I've been contracted to do before they'll pay me. I really need the kind of client who'll pay me for not working, but that kind is scarce._

**Chapter Seven**

_Cruising._

"Willow," asked Buffy, "why are you and Kennedy soaked? Were you guys in a wet tee-shirt contest or something?"

"No," Willow replied primly, "Ken and I were sight-seeing near the big chains and stuff near the front of the boat when a really big wave splashed over and nearly drowned us. And actually, we're pretty dry compared to earlier—but this salt is starting to itch." Willow looked at Kennedy and said with a shy smile, "But Ken looked awfully good in her wet shirt."

I winced at Willow's land-lubberly descriptions, and I certainly agreed with her assessment of her friend – but I knew better than to comment out loud. "You have time to shower and change, if you wish. We'll be docking in Bremerton around nine this evening."

Kennedy and Willow both got up and started to leave. There was something in their attitude that seemed suspicious to me. I added, "Now don't take any hollywood showers, save water with Navy showers!" I don't know if they heard me though as they skipped a couple of steps and laughed on their way hand-in-hand down the passage to the XO's cabin, who I had booted out so our guests could freshen up.

Buffy asked, "What's a Navy shower?"

"Simple," I answered in my best 'Captain' tones, "Turn the water on, get wet, turn it off, get soapy, turn it on again and rinse. Done."

Xander, Buffy, and Dawn all looked at each other and laughed helplessly. I said stiffly, "It isn't a laughing matter, we make fresh water onboard, but not in luxurious amounts."

Xander wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and choked out, "That's all right, go on, we'll forget about it."

I looked at my guests. "You know the cats out the bag about your spaceship. Most of three hundred enlisted men and officers got a good look at it. They'll be e-mailing friends ashore as soon as we are in line of sight with a cell tower, complete with pictures."

Colonel O'Neill said, "Uh, actually, I doubt it. You see, we have some interesting and highly classified security tools that should, at least if they're working right, make communications impossible. Except for the most secure satellite transmissions from your radio room."

I frowned, "You know, I wish you would have asked me first."

"Sorry Captain, it had to be done. You can complain to the Pentagon if you don't like it."

Well, I could see which the wind was blowing. As much as I wanted to stay with my guests and learn all I could, my duties as Captain intruded. I had this sudden vision of myself attempting to explain to a board of disbelieving Admirals about spaceships and symbiotic aliens while in the background my ship was piled up on a reef, crew and equipment spilling into the waves. I'd best see about business before that happened. "Colonel O'Neill," I said, "I'm needed on the bridge for a few minutes. If you need anything, just press that button and a steward will bring food or coffee." I pointed to a control panel, nodded at the self-proclaimed god-king still strapped to his stretcher which had been wedged between the wardroom walls across the table, leaving not much space for everyone else to squeeze in, and took my leave.

First stop, the radio room. The radiomen told me that yes, all communications were down, except the highly encrypted satellite data-stream. They were frantically trying to figure out why, so far without success. So I sent a message to the Admiral and got an immediate reply, which speed of reply made me realize that the Admiral had been waiting for me—that's a guaranteed way to make three-stripers very nervous. As per the Admiral's request, I ordered all data from CIC, which amounted to quite a lot, plus information and images from the bridge, to be uploaded and sent to CinCPac. Finally, my destination to Bremerton was confirmed. But I had the distinct feeling that there would be no liberty granted for anyone, not until an extensive debriefing anyway.

After stopping by the bridge and making sure we were on course, I conferred with my executive officer for a minute then finally got back to the Wardroom. I had to chivvy some junior officers out of the passageway where they were hanging around curiously. When I told them the wardroom was off-limits for the near future, they were inconsolable.

I steadied myself, took a deep breath or two, and prepared to join a high level interstellar discussion concerning the fate of planets and human civilization. I opened the door and heard Colonel O'Neill exclaim, "NO, NO, NO! Intelligence and experience count above all!"

Andrew replied from his stretcher, "You're wrong Colonel! The cavemen are in their own environment! Of course they'd have the advantage! BAH, I'D KILL ALL OF THE INSOLENT CREATURES!"

Dr. Jackson of all people added, "The cavemen are just as smart as the astronauts, Jack. They're the same as us. Given their own territory, they could win."

"But Daniel, we won against the Unas. We used your intelligence to do it peacefully, but nothing would have prevented us from blasting them to pieces if that hadn't worked."

"But Jack," he replied earnestly, "Unas aren't as intelligent as the Cro-Magnon were!"

The short blond girl, Buffy I think, said, "Jesus Christ people! This is such a juvenile argument! Whoever has the guns will win! Unless any Slayers were around, then we'd kick all your asses! New subject!"

I coughed quietly and sat down at my chair the head of the table. "So, it turns out that my Admiral is taking a personal interest in all this – which is not actually a surprise. Do you need to contact your superior Colonel?"

"We already have." At my raised eyebrows he clarified, "Naturally our communicators still work. Any way, we'll be met in Bremerton and we all be debriefed, probably at length. We will require you and your crew to sign non-disclosure-upon-pain-of-death-forms, and after being evaluated for your ability to keep quiet, you will be allowed to return to your regular duties. I think that about covers all I can say, right?"

The others all nodded in agreement. Another fine Navy day, I thought sarcastically.

**Chapter Eight**

_What's This Do?_

The Slayers scattered and searched throughout the large brick house that housed the New Council. It was only a few minutes until they found themselves drawn outside, only to spot Andrew making his escape in Giles' vintage Bentley. Buffy shouted, "Ken, get the Range Rover and three Slayers and follow me. Come on you two, in the Beemer with me! The rest of you stay here and coordinate." Two carloads of Slayers, with SG-1 bringing up the rear in their rental car, ended up chasing Andrew across London, through the suburbs and into the English countryside down smaller and narrower roads until they ended up in a heavily forested park or estate or something, Buffy didn't know which. Although she had spotted an astonishingly large country house peeking through the trees. They pulled up next to the abandoned Bentley; Giles rushed over and started to inspect his car.

"What luck! It appears to be undamaged!"

"Giles! Priorities! Forget that old car! Come on, where the hell did Andrew disappear to?"

"Buffy! This isn't just any old car, this is a 1932 Bentley! Only the Powers know how it ended up in one of the Council's warehouses."

"I don't care."

"But Buffy, it's worth a million pounds or more."

"Then why the hell are you driving it around London? Oh, never mind – where did that little nerd get to?" Buffy twirled and bounded away.

"Because it's a fine automobile that deserves to be driven," Giles said quietly to Buffy's back.

The Slayers had spread out and were going through the woods like a pride of lionesses, but with greater ferocity. O'Neill held back and quietly signaled to his team to hang back with him. Carter got out a small black box and started to twiddle the dials. "Sir! That way! A naquada power source!" She pointed off to the right. They all looked, but saw nothing but trees.

"Damn," said O'Neill, "those trees look like... Oh wait, we're still on planet Earth, right?"

Carter grinned, "Yes sir. But let's not not spill _all_ our secrets to these girls."

"Hey, I'm being quiet. They can't possibly hear us at this distance."

Teal'c said, "O'Neill, I have been watching the way these young female warriors move. They appear to be a formidable force. I didn't realize young Tau'ri were trained so ferociously. Is this common on Earth?"

"Um, no. It's very unusual, maybe unique."

"Sir," said Carter anxiously looking up from her hand-held instrument and pointing towards a particularly dense thicket, "I think there's a Tel'tak in that direction! That's gotta be where Ptah is headed! We have to hurry!"

O'Neill said, "After you Carter. I suggest we run."

They all took off into the woods. Buffy noticed and signaled to everyone who could see her to follow. She cut through the woods on a course calculated to meet SG-1. She came out of a thicket of brush in time to see Daniel Jackson disappear into what appeared to be the mouth of a small cave. Buffy didn't hesitate, she ran after him. And so did Dawn and Giles. Kennedy zoomed past both and caught up with Buffy.

Once inside the cave, Kennedy pointed at a a lit square hatch-like object, they dived into it and ended up in a room decorated in an intricate design, apparently in gold. Buffy found the whole effect to be hideously overblown. She didn't see anyone else, but there were plenty of corridors to choose from when she was bowled off her feet.

Buffy looked up and said, "Dawn! What are you doing here?"

"Following you of course. Would you rather I stand around and wait to be kidnapped?"

"It isn't Tuesday, you'd have been safe," said Buffy.

Dawn laughed softly.

Giles pushed himself through the opening, just in time to see it close behind him, with a sudden snap. "Dear lord, that was close. Buffy, do you have any idea what this is?"

"No, I was just following the Air Force contingent who were following Andrew. They must around somewhere, maybe they'll tell us what's going on. If not, I suppose I could beat it out of them."

"Oh I don't know Buffy," said Dawn, "that Colonel looks like a pretty tough customer. Besides, we're all on the same side. At least I think we are," she added doubtfully.

Kennedy shook her head and said, "All we have to do is threaten his crew, I betcha he'd spill then!"

Buffy frowned at Ken.

They headed down a passageway at random and found themselves in some kind of control area. Kennedy wandered across the open space and looked at the out-of-this-world control panel. She asked, "I wonder what this does?" And she pushed experimentally at a horizontal cone shaped object.

The floor started vibrating and shaking ominously, followed by distinct upward movement. A few moments later dirt slid off the large forward windows and suddenly they could see the English countryside a hundred feet below. Buffy looked down and could see Xander on the ground, as well as they rest of the Slayers all looking upward in disbelief.

"KENNEDY! What did you do?"

"N, n, nothing! I mean, I didn't think anything like this would happen!"

O'Neill and Carter skidded into the room and looked out at the land below, moving slowly and majestically across the viewscreens.

"Who's flying this thing?" asked O'Neill. Everyone pointed at Ken.

"She started it up," said Dawn, "do you know how to stop it?"

"I didn't do anything!" cried Kennedy, "I just barely touched that cone hickey when everything started shuddering!"

Carter looked at the control panel and frowned, "You shouldn't have been able to activate the ship with that. Someone must be flying this from the emergency control room."

"Geez Carter, since when did these things come with more than one control room?" asked an exasperated Colonel.

"Since always sir, you just never paid attention before. I mean really, no intelligent engineer would design a military spaceship with only one set of controls."

"Hmmph. I guess. So I suppose Ptah is down there taking us to God knows where. Can we override from here?"

Carter, studying the main control panel, switching things this way and that, finally said, "No sir. But if we can't break into the other control room, we can try to override from the engine room."

Buffy leaned against the bulkhead just as the ship jerked to a new course. She steadied herself by sticking out her hand, but she hit a another panel set near the door. Kennedy, standing idly in the center of the compartment, was suddenly enveloped in five large rings which appeared and disappeared in a few seconds, accompanied by a flash of golden light. She was replaced by Xander, who looked absolutely shocked.

"What the fuck!?" he shouted. He was beginning to panic when he noticed Buffy and Dawn.

"What happened to Kennedy?" asked Dawn.

"Uh," said Giles looking out the forward viewscreen, "she's down there, standing right about where Xander was. She appears to be somewhat exercised but Willow is calming her down. Apparently, uh, someone accidentally activated some kind of transport system. Xander? Do you feel alright after getting all of your molecules mixed up and replaced?"

"Shit, I'll have to thank Ken next time I see her. What is this anyway?" asked Xander, still upset at his unexpected displacement.

"My guess," said Buffy, "is some kind of spaceship. Take a look out the window."

"So," Xander asked, "who's flying this golden pile of crap? And where are they taking us?"

"Umm," said a suddenly embarrassed Buffy, "it would appear that Andrew is in control."

"ANDREW! What idiot let him touch the controls of a freakin' spaceship?" asked Xander.

"I suppose that would be us, we were blindsided," said Buffy. "They're gonna fix it though." She pointed confidently to Carter and O'Neill.

Colonel O'Neill rolled his eyes.

--- ---

TBC


End file.
